What About Bob?
by Sophia Hawkins
Summary: Oneshot. Goren draws inspiration from a movie for how to deal with a perp in their custody. Rated for language not used on the show.


What About Bob?

A/N: I love the movie "What About Bob?" and one day got the idea what would it be like if Goren acted like Bob towards a perp, and also decided it was a great excuse to throw in a little inside joke connecting the two, and this story is the result of that idea. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: All standard disclaimers apply, don't own, don't sue.

"Ever hear of death therapy?" Goren asked the other man in the cell, and looked at him shiftily, "It works wonders…"

The other man in the holding cell was one Norman Lancer, 36 years old, the typical 'tall dark and handsome' variety who just happened to be Major Case's prime suspect in a brutal double homicide. They'd been hunting for him for four days and finally caught him during what was for all appearances a routine traffic stop. He was tight lipped and dead set on not saying anything until his attorney arrived. Fair enough, that was his right, but until then they'd put him in a cell…and given him a cellmate for the time being. Goren was out of his suit and dressed like an average schmuck whose claim was 'I didn't do nothing, that pig beat _me_ up first'. He stammered to himself for a few minutes, before turning around and meeting his cellmate for the first time, and then he directed all attention on him.

"See I know," he told Norman, "I _know_ it works, because they used it on me…" he closed the gap between them and told the other man, "You wouldn't believe it, but I used to be _really_ messed up…I had a _lot_ of problems."

"That's nice," the other man said dismissively as he stepped around Goren and went to the other side of the cell.

Goren turned and followed him, "Yeah, I was in pretty poor shape before they cured me with the therapy…I had a _lot_ of stuff wrong with me…I was neurotic, obsessive compulsive…hypochondriac, anxiety attacks, panic attacks…gas attacks…my…" he swallowed loudly and hard like he was trying to keep from throwing up, "My throat would close up, I couldn't swallow, I couldn't breathe, constant fainting spells…you, you ever hear of those people, flying on a plane, they're scared to fly, they get claustrophobic, they think they'll die if they stay on the plane, so they try to jump out instead at 10,000 feet?"

"Yes," Lancer replied as he turned and walked away from Goren again.

"That's me," Goren said as he followed him back to the other end of the cell, "Or that _was_ me, I mean I never got on a plane…" he laughed and said, "The way security's amped up these days can you imagine what I'd be like on a plane having a panic attack? No, instead I'd just run up to random people on, on the street and I'd say to them," he grabbed Lancer by his jacket and asked him, "Hi, my name's Bob, will you please knock me out?" and he let go of Lancer, "Just, just hit me in the face a few times…can you imagine what that's like? And then…that's not even the worst of it, I used to…" one side of Goren's face froze and he twitched compulsively like he had a mosquito buzzing around his ear, "I used to have Tourette's Syndrome, you ever hear of that? Do you…" Goren rolled his neck and barked like a dog, "Do you know what that is? Tourette's Syndrome?"

"Yes, I know what that is," Lancer answered as he stepped away from Goren.

But everywhere he turned in the small holding cell, Goren was there, towering over him, smirking, a sinister gleam in his eyes, "People think it's funny but it's not, it's really…" he rolled his neck and twitched again, "Really annoying, first of all you have all these tics, and _then_ when you're out in a public place and you just start…FUCK, BITCH, FUCK, BITCH, BITCH-BITCH-BITCH-BITCH-BITCH!" night and day, Goren was nonchalant again as he said to Lancer, "You see how that can be annoying?"

"Very much," Lancer said as he tried to get away from Goren again, he went to the door of his cell and called out to the cops passing by, "Hey, this guy in here is a nut!"

"Of course," Goren said as he strolled over to Lancer again, "Even that wasn't as bad as the sudden episodes where…" he made a choking gasping sound and grabbed at his throat and got out a stifled, "Can't breathe!" and fell to the floor and gradually turned purple in the face, before letting out a long and exhausted exhale and getting up again and adding, "Oh yeah, that was _definitely_ among the worst, I'd have that happen…7-8 times a week."

"Hey!" Lancer called out to the officers, "Hey, get me away from this guy!"

"See for the longest time," Goren kept coming at him, "I thought I was so clever…I decided if I could fake it, then it meant I didn't have it…so as long as I could fake everything, then I was alright…then one day I was doing it and I realized I _wasn't_ faking…I really _was_ screaming obscenities, and I really _couldn't_ breathe and I really _was_ passing out all the time…that's when I knew I needed help…and it took a _long_ time to get it…you know a lot of those psychiatrists and psychologists out there are plenty unstable themselves? I saw _five_ doctors before I got one that didn't take his own life..."

"Get me out of here!" Lancer pressed his forehead against the bars.

"One of my doctors, Dr. Nox, he shot himself before my second session with him…and my doctor after him, Dr. Barnett, he shot himself right _after_ my _first_ session with him…I could never figure out what was _wrong_ with these…these _brilliant_ men of the science of psychiatry? Some of them worked with the FBI to profile…murderers and, and child abusers, and they could sit there for _hours_ on end and listen to every last one of them recall every gruesome detail about their crimes and the…the sexual pleasure they got out of committing them…but then _I_ go to them as a patient, and they kill themselves…"

"I can't take it anymore!" Lancer threw his whole body against the bars and called out to whoever was out there, "Get me out of here, get me _away_ from this loon!"

Up to the door came Detective Logan, who nonchalantly shrugged and replied, "Sorry, pal, standard procedure, until your lawyer gets here, we have to keep you locked up."

"Then forget the lawyer, I don't want a lawyer, I'll confess, I did it! Just get me _out_ of here and _away_ from this fruitcake."

Goren poked Lancer on the shoulder and asked him, doing his infamous tilt to the side, "Did I ever tell you that I used to be schizophrenic too?"

"Get me out!" Lancer told Logan, "I did it, I admit it, I'll make a full confession, I'll write everything down, just _get me out of here_!"

"Okay," Logan said neutrally, "If that's what you _want_." He turned and called down the corridor, "Wheeler, give me a hand here?"

His partner entered the room and replied, "Sure. I thought we were waiting on his lawyer though?"

Logan shrugged, "Guess not." They opened the door and slapped the handcuffs on Lancer and Logan told him, "Watch yourself, Norman."

Once they were out of sight with Lancer in tow, Goren let himself out of the cell and turned the corner and saw Eames pressed against the wall, _just_ narrowly restraining herself from busting a gut laughing, and quickly failing at it. She slid down the wall and pressed her hands against her face to stifle her laughter but a few repressed snorts escaped all the same.

"Well," he said _very_ nonchalantly, "I thought that went rather well, didn't you?"

Eames lowered her hands and tried to talk but all the words came out in a higher pitched giggle than was normal for her, she composed herself and tried again as she stood up, "I've never seen _that_ one before."

"Well," Goren said to her, "I wouldn't want to become _too_ predictable."

"What'd that take?" Alex asked him, "About five minutes? That's got to be one of the quickest confessions we ever got."

"That's _why_ I requested _not_ to be present at the arrest," Goren explained, then added a bit cockily, "I had a feeling I'd make a profound impression on him once we met."

A small fit of laughter escaped from Eames before she asked him, "Where in the hell did you get the idea to do that?"

"Uh, from a movie," he answered.

"What movie?"

" 'What About Bob?', did you ever see it?" Goren asked her.

Eames shook her head, "No."

"No?" he asked, in a tone similar to when he called perps out on their bull, he slightly shook his head and asked her again, "You never saw it?"

"No," she repeated.

"Too bad," he replied, "It's good."

"Detectives," ADA Ron Carver said as he entered the room in passing, and added in his dry sarcastic tone, "What would you know? I was just getting ready to leave when somebody informed me Mr. Lancer wants to confess."

"Hmm," Goren turned up his top lip and furrowed his brow.

"What're the odds of that?" Eames asked, just narrowly managing to keep a straight face.

"Well," Carver said, "I guess I better get in there. Good day, Detectives."

"Hey," Goren turned around and called after the prosecutor, "Call me Bob!"

That sudden outburst received an equally sudden snort of a laugh from Eames, who then reached over and slapped Goren on the arm and told him, "Stop that!"

"What?" Goren asked innocently.


End file.
